Another Fate
by MyLadyLorna
Summary: The War of the Ring is won and Aragorn shall be crowned King of Gondor. Elrohir rides back to bear the news to those in Rivendell, and in particular his sister. Please R&R.


I do not own any of these characters. They belong exclusively to Tolkien Estates, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema. My Elvish is not masterful as I usually write Hobbit tales, so please don't bother to correct me on it as there's really no point.

Raven locks lay glistening across Arwen's brow as she concentrated fervently on the task before her. The banner flowed elegantly across her slender knees, the workmanship she was stitching with graceful care well-known throughout the lands. A white tree surrounded by seven stars and seven stones; the sign of the King of Gondor. His return had been triumphed and prophesied for many years, but never before had it lingered so close to the touch. Her deeply abiding love for Aragorn had brought emotions to the surface of her heart, ones she devoutly wished had remained untouched. The fear of the unknown, his untimely death while her youth remained, the sailing of her family, her father. All were cause to weep, yet she pictured Elessar's face in her mind's eye and hope was restored to a weakened spirit. She could but believe that the desires of her heart would turn golden before the end, renewed in the waters of vigour and empowered by Aragorn's love. Her fingertips tenderly stroked the emblem emblazoned on the standard.

A soft knock drew her attention from the dream world in which she often resided, returning her spirit to Rivendell with a decidedly firm landing. Gliding to her feet, she slid the door open to reveal a partially smiling face. The delicate features much like her own belonged to one much-loved and whom she had not set eyes on in many torturous months.

"Elrohir."

His name slipped from her tongue like honey as he tenderly drew her into his embrace, arms protectively held about her shoulders and his chin resting atop her head. His exhalation of breath was barely audible, but she sensed his relief and joy in returning home. "Sister, I have missed you. I thought of you every day that I was gone, and I know Elladen has done the same. I wish he were here to greet you himself." Drawing back, she rested her hands on his chest, gazing at him with sparkling eyes. "It is enough, Brother, that you are here and safe though I wish I could have you both at my side. It has been such a long journey, and so trying, though I could not carry the burden you bear."

He released her and only then did his gaze catch the waterfall of brilliant fabric lying where she had abandoned it beside her chair. His hands reached out to grasp the cloth and he stretched it to full length, the insignia of the King shimmering from the glorious depths overflowing with color. Lowering his arms, Elrohir glanced at Arwen, his eyes revealing brotherly concern for her love of a Mortal man.

Resigned, she tugged the standard free, folding it gently and refusing to speak though a million words lingered between them. Turning her back on Elrohir, she stepped to her wardrobe and tenderly placed her work within one of the drawers, closing it tightly against prying eyes. When she met his gaze once more, he had settled his elegant figure into a neighboring chair, fingertips idly touching as he watched her with a piercing stare. His dark strands clung to his brow regally, of their own accord forming a crown of the Halfelvens.

"You intend to go ahead with your plan. In spite of all the reasons you have to sail for Valinor with the next tide." The words were spoken in a monotone, restrained and emotionless, yet his eyes betrayed his fears. Arwen sighed in soft anguish, kneeling at her Elrohir's feet, resting willowy arms upon his knees. "How could I sail, knowing how my leaving would affect him, Elrohir? I love him, as you well know. Please do not ask me to do what my mind says I should, but my heart knows I cannot. I would never question your choice in this life, were it to remain as a Child of the Eldar, or to refuse that honor and become like a Mortal man. We each must choose our own path, Elrohir, and this is my choice."

Her head lowered in sorrow, forehead pressing against his leg as if she were a child, fingers gripping his tunic tightly. His gentle touch beneath her chin drew her head upward, fingertips brushing away the single tear that flowed like a misspent jewel down the soft curvature of her cheek. "I would that this choice had not fallen to you, Arwen Undomiel. You are my beloved sister, whom I have loved often and would never willingly release into the darkness of an unknown life beyond the protective walls of Rivendell. Yet, I know that your love for Aragorn is stronger than even your love for Elladen and myself. I would ask you to choose life over death, Arwen, but I cannot, as I too have made your choice though for vastly different reasons."

Her trembling lips parted in surprise at his final words, brows knitting together as she raised her hand to his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. "What does this mean? Elrohir, you cannot mean you have chosen a Mortal life. You are Adda's hope for the future, both you and Elladen. How can you choose to deny him the dream he has always born?"

Pushing her back, Elrohir's limbs unfolded and he walked to the window, drawing back the frothy curtain which framed the majestic view of their hidden valley of splendor. "Arwen, the time of the Elves has passed. Our purpose in Middle Earth is complete, and now we are nothing. Our power is fading, Arwen." Masked sorrow lingered in his eyes as he once again faced her slender form still kneeling upon the tile warmed from the brilliant afternoon sun. "Just as the sun traverses the sky each day, so too have the Elves traveled Middle Earth and are now declining toward shadowy evening. We must leave, or choose to remain without our gifted immortality. Elladen and I have both chosen a Mortal life, though I had wished more for you, my sister."

"Why, Elrohir? I would forever regret leaving him, and I would have to live with my choice until the end of time. Even you, my brother, could never survive such a devastating decision that wounds one to the heart." His hand lowered and he gripped her arm in a loving gesture, drawing her to her feet, and once more into his embrace, his hand resting against the flowing ebony hair. "No, Arwen, I could not make such a choice. You, my sister, are far braver then I could ever hope to become, and I wish you well for it."

His chest expanded beneath Arwen's cheek, and his next words evoked an unimaginable shock throughout her system. "It is over, Arwen. The war is won, and Aragorn has been crowned King."

Her breath inhaled sharply, and she drew back, eyes piercing as she captured his look to see if he spoke truth. It was written in the wisdom of the ages along his features, and Arwen whispered in a voice long wrought with torment, "It is finished. After so long a time, it is done." His graceful lashes fluttered closed, then open again. "Your life as you now know it is complete, and you will now journey along a different path, one in which I will follow for most of the way." The standard upon which she had so long toiled was near completion, and the significance raised tears of joy. Elrohir murmured against her hair, "I am happy for you, Arwen, but also feel sorrow for what you will lose. Apparently our Mortal blood is far stronger then we ever supposed possible."

"Do not sorrow long, Elrohir, for I have chosen this life with gladness and rejoicing. I could never love another. Aragorn and I were destined for each other since long before his birth."

"I believe it, Arwen."

Releasing his grip, Elrohir stepped back with the beginnings of a smile caressing the corners of his eyes. "I have come to be part of your escort, my sister. Adda has already heard the news and is preparing to depart." Her hands clasped in front of her gown, but her eyes did not lower to the flooring in meekness, but rather held his gaze through strength of will. "It will be hard for him, Elrohir, but he knows that I would never accept another fate."

"Then I shall leave you to pack, Arwen." His step turned toward the door, but he hesitated briefly, his slender fingers resting upon the knob. With his head slightly swivelled toward her, he spoke confidently, "I wish you the very best in your chosen life, Arwen. Never doubt that." With his dark head lowered in a nod of respect and affection, he vanished through the entryway, leaving Arwen to contend with a sense of bittersweet victory. She would now live the life of a woman, and gladly too, but it was not without loss. Such were the choices of many beings throughout the ages. Joy and sorrow mingled together in the river of life, never being overcome by the other, but coexisting in peace. Arwen's journey would be no different.

**The End**


End file.
